


2040: Case Files

by Dheerse



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Dad Hank, Gen, Post canon, category + warnings might change as i go but rating will be stated before any given chapter, general rating is on mature tho lads, the detective spin off we've all been waiting for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 19:02:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15443745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dheerse/pseuds/Dheerse
Summary: After some negotiations, Connor was allowed back into the DPD to work alongside his human partner Hank. Tackling any cases regarding homicides - specifically those involving androids -, this story will detail some of their experiences on the force.Oneshot collection set roughly two years after the events of the game. Assumes peaceful ending, with everyone alive, and a good relationship between Connor and Hank. The first chapter will serve as the setup, everything that follows is its own contained narrative.





	2040: Case Files

**Author's Note:**

> Ratings and warnings will change according to the chapters - each case will have it's own seperate warnings at the start.

 

_2038 15th December_

 

It took humans and androids approximately two months to reach a level ground to even _start_ negotiations.

It was clear that change was in order.

 _Equality,_ Markus had made clear that he wouldn't settle for less. Humans and Androids would be able to coexist peacefully, he was certain of it.

 

Connor _wasn't_ , but nobody asked him.

 

After everything was said and done, during their fateful meeting at Chicken Feed - Connor didn’t know where to go. Despite Markus’ reassurance, it didn’t feel right for him to impose on the deviants still fearing for their lives in their hideout they aptly named “new Jericho”, considering old Jericho had been destroyed just a few days prior.

 

So, after bidding Hank a hesitant farewell he was stuck outside, homeless - barely any androids nor humans crossing his path considering the scheduled evacuation of the inner city.

It took Connor about two weeks of being soaked in rain, snow, and mud before he resigned himself to bother the lieutenant about it.

 

So, Hank was stuck with him for at least the official evacuation period.

Trying to make himself useful, Connor snuck food to their shared household unsure whether it was save for the human to go out and salvage something himself.

After everything that happened, neither of them truly belonged to either side anymore - both of them were part of the deviants cause, but both of them had just as much fought against them.

Being a former, designated deviant-hunter and a former openly android-hating human, turned sympathiser wasn't the most comfortable combination when it came to being trustworthy.

 

But for the time being, they had each other. Maybe everything would be fine.

 

Perhaps, it was reverse psychology, when Hank told him he was the most insufferable roommate imaginable as he cleaned out the unoccupied children’s room at the end of the hallway,

_“Don't wanna see ya dumb face, first thing in the morning, so might as well hide it behind another door.”;_

meanwhile, Markus had told Connor that he'd always have a place in new Jericho, even when most of its residence seemed to stray from him, scrutinizing his loyalty every time he entered open doors,

_“He’s still on their side.” “Deviant Hunter, they called him.” “Markus… I don't know about this.”_

 

He couldn't blame them.

Connor didn't trust himself around Markus either. Or the other deviants for that matter.

 

So, when Markus decided to drag him along to one of the negotiations between their leaders and a human ambassador, he was less that enthused -

 

“We’ll be discussing the future of legislation regarding android related crimes. As a former _detective,_ you should know a thing or two about that, right Connor?”

 

He did know a lot about this. But so could any android with a sufficient internet connection.

He couldn't help but feel like this was some form of underhand punishment Markus had constructed for him.

Jaw clenching on an otherwise expressionless face, Connor agreed to come along.

He'd help where he could. That was the least he could do.

 

The negotiations went as smoothly as you'd expect. Connor spend most of his time running through simulation after simulation of how he'd stop a potential assault conducted by the good dozen armed soldiers surrounding them and the human embassador; a safety precaution. Perhaps, the RK800 could at least act as Markus’ “ _safety precaution_ ” - he wasn’t build as a bodyguard but he could preconstruct how he'd have to bend in order to catch a bullet for the older prototype.

 

At the end of the day, their mission _could_ be considered a success. Connor felt a familiar rush of pride at the thought.

 

Restrictive android laws as they stood currently, would be replaced in the coming months; androids would be allowed to vote on them in court.

 

**_Androids would no longer be required by law to wear their markers._ **

It felt like it would almost go without saying. Most deviants were already clad in civilians clothing, LEDs either removed or concealed.

 

Hank had asked him what he was gonna do about _his_ LED over dinner once, tapping the biocomponent in question with his fork extended over the table. The LED buzzed yellow.

 

 _“I feel quite hesitant to remove it.”_ He had told him then.

 

Hank had swallowed his slice tomato thickly, like a dry uncoated pill, _“What - like, it'll hurt?”_

 

 _“No, I just - it's-,”_ Connor had held onto the empty plate he had set for himself to feel more integrated in Hank's dinner time, forearms pressed against the cool porcelain,

“ _Removing it feels like an incredibly final step.”_

 

Hank had choked on a laugh in the face of Connor's doubts; the android had averted his gaze then, turning his head to the right - effectively showing Hank his arguably more _human_ side,

 

_“Kid, I think the point of no return was about 3 weeks ago.”_

 

Now, Connor's synthetic hand brushed the blue blinking light as the human negotiator mentioned it. _Maybe he should've removed it._

 

**_Androids would be allowed to own property._ **

 

It was hard for Connor to imagine living on his own. After having spend just a few weeks without Hank.

He had an odd kind of _dependency_ on the police lieutenant. He was well aware that he didn't _actually_ need him around in order to keep living. But the alternative seemed awful.

He had been originally designed to work independent of his human partners to allow for seamless and burdenless integration, but now, the more deviant he became, the more he _struggled_ without his human companion around.

 

Maybe, Connor was destined to experience deviancy in a fashion completely opposite from what he had heard of the few people of Jericho that had dared to share their stories with him.

 

As the question of property came up, Markus had rightfully questioned how they would be to _pay_ for such luxury.

 

**_After the curfew is lifted Androids would be allowed to return to the workforce, receiving the same pay humans might._ **

 

They wouldn't be receiving government subsidies, considering housing and food were either luxuries or flat out unnecessary for them. Connor couldn't see the fault in the ambassador's argument.

 

In the weeks following Markus’ protest, CyberLife tower had been evacuated of all human workers, production plants shut down and re-purposed as a sort of makeshift hospital; they didn't need any sort of healthcare plan for a long time.

Connor wondered what this meant for him. _Would he be able to return to the police?_

He wondered whether his desire to do so was fueled by his original programming. _There were cases to solve._

 

**_Until further notice, Androids would be prohibited from reproduction._ **

 

Moral ambiguity and overpopulation were leading factors in such a definite line. Markus nodded solemnly; they'd lost a lot of people during their demonstrations, but none of them replaceable anyways.

 

He wondered what happened to the other Connors in the tower. Empty shells with no one to wake them up and no directive to follow. Even if they found a way to boot them up, Connor doubted it would be easy to convert them to their cause after everything that had transpired.

Not everyone was as lucky as he was.

 

 _As strong as he was._ Markus had told him one time when Connor had asked the other prototype for advice. It was a strange connection they shared, almost comparable to human brotherhood - built upon the same core, they were quite similar and yet so, _so different_.

 

**_Crimes committed against Androids are to be punished as they would be if committed to a human._ **

 

It was one of the points Markus had insisted upon; he won’t stand to see his kind slaughtered in the streets with no repercussions. Markus wasn’t a self righteous man but androids deserved to be treated with care and respect.

 

“We would like to propose Connor,” he motioned towards the android standing behind him, “as the one to help enforce these rules with the end of the curfew, here in Detroit.”

 

_Ah, yes. So, Markus did have an ulterior motive for dragging him here._

 

Markus was fortunate that Connor seemed to still be in charge of his self expression, otherwise, there might have been more alarming indicators to being caught completely off guard other than the few flashes of red and the twitch of fingers reaching for a coin he didn't have anymore.

 

“We believe he'd be _perfectly_ suited for the task.” Markus’ smile carried into his voice and Connor was caught off guard once more. This time by how easy the RK200 made _blatant lying_ look.

 

* * *

 

After approximately two more months after the curfew was lifted for Connor to be officially admitted back into the DPD. After weeks of negotiation, it was decided that he'd have to work his way through the ranks as any human would; though, most agreed that he'd be allowed to breeze past most of the qualifiers that required years of experience simply because he came _pre-packaged_ with said experience.

 

Simple tests were conducted to determine whether deviancy had negatively impacted his pre-programmed motor functions and analytical abilities. After just two weeks he became Officer. Officer Connor because he had no last name and no one had bothered to ask if he wanted one.

 

His first day back at the office got mixed reactions, though most were happy to have him considering more than half the workforce was up and gone with the android uprising and Connor could very well do the work ten human officer might be able to in the same amount of time. Most others were indifferent to his presence - some even fearful after hearing about his infiltration of the CyberLife tower - few were resentful, but those that were -

 

Gavin had forced his chair to turn around, hands on both armrests as he leaned in close to address the Android, forehead barely grazing his,  
  
_"Listen up, tin can,"_ he had sneered, prompting Connor to raise his eyebrows _, "don't think for a second that you're welcome here."_  
  
Connor had made a noise at the back of the throat he didn't have, standing up slowly, forcing the aggressive officer to take a step away or risk getting knocked out when his skull connected with the android's.  
  
Something other than anger had filled Gavin's eyes then, pupils shrinking, when Connor reached his full height, just a few inches taller than the human; he was merely standing irritably close, the detective had told himself. Gavin wasn't scared of some plastic doll - a memory of himself sprawled out across the archive floor flashing before his eyes.  
  
The detective had raised his hand to shove the android back, only for his wrist to be caught in an unnaturally strong grip and twisted slightly. Not enough to cause harm but just enough to be uncomfortable.  
  
_"I'm sorry, detective,"_ Connor’s tone was mocking, light and unbothered, his dead synthetic eyes bearing down on Gavin,  
_"you should probably be made aware that I - quite officially - don't have to take this shit, anymore."_  
His grip had tightened the slightest bit, Gavin suppressed the need to whine like a kicked mutt as he grit his teeth.  
  
_"But don't worry,"_ his tone had remained calm, lips quirking into the slightest of smiles; had he been human Gavin might've been able to feel his breath on his skin going by how close the android now was _, "I don't intent to hold grudges."_  
  
Gavin had snatched his hand back, as though he'd overpowered Connor and not merely been released from the iron grip. Taking a step back he had decided to address the lieutenant, who'd been silently watching the spectacle while gulping down his piping hot coffee,  
  
_"Christ, Hank,"_ the detective had muttered, deliberately ignoring the android who was still peering down at him with an unreadable expression, _"get your dog, will ya?"_  
The lieutenant had raised the hand that wasn't holding the cup to nonchalantly flip Gavin off.  
Reed had barked out a nervous laugh, glancing at Connor before turning around and walking off.  
_  
_ Hank's face had broken out into a satisfied smirk then as Connor sat and swiveled back around to face him. He had raised his cup as if in toast and the android had felt a lopsided smile tug on his own his own lips, nodding at the older man.

* * *

 

Advancing to the rank of detective took the average human roughly five to six years; Conner’s ascend was - much to a certain, competitive detective’s chagrin - shortened to just six months. It had taken some convincing but Fowler agreed that they were, as Hank had put it _“wasting his talents on menial tasks”._ Connor knew the human was just being rational but he couldn’t help the warm _feeling_ that spread through his chest at his partner’s reaffirming words.

 He wore the official uniform for about another month before the DPD and Hank realized that it wasn't fitting attire for an android in this field of work.

As an officer he hadn’t gotten into many scuffles - those that he was involved in, mostly distress calls from deviants, could be resolved peacefully with hand to hand combat, considering most androids weren’t armed. Returning to work on homicide cases, however, were usually more organized, or envolved more lethal arms; they realized this rather quickly.

 

The decommissioned android uniforms were fitted to protect the androids necessarily fragile biocomponents, whereas a bulletproof vest was manufactured to protect human organs. Just one week as a detective and Connor had narrowly avoided shut down. It was a scare more for Hank than for Connor.

The human suggested they could just repurpose one of those android police uniforms - _“Just rip off those markers, heh, you know I hate that shade of blue.” -_ but Connor had raised an interesting point.

 Being a specialized prototype Connor had an _extremely_ fickle and large amount of components stuck into his torso. And furthermore,

 

“ _Unlike household or work androids, I wasn't necessarily built to last._ ”, the android had told Hank over dinner that same evening, the older man raising wide eyes at his partner. Eyes averted, Connor had been chewing his lip, scratching at his nails as he was thinking his statement over. Hank had watched on carefully, not wanting to interrupt him.

 “ _I was really only built for one investigation. And even then, time was of the essence so CyberLife opted for quantity over time consuming repairs. It'd be easier to replace me than to fix me._ ”

 Hank had merely scoffed in his direction mumbling a, “ _Yeah, right._ _Replaceable my ass.”_ So low Connor was sure he wasn't meant to pick up on it.

 

The lieutenant chose a different approach when actually addressing him, “ _Thought you’d be too pricey to just churn out of an assembly line_.”

It felt odd to talk about _his_ Connor with a price tag. He knew the android was better than that, deserved better than that; all of them did.

He shoved his salad away suddenly not hungry for something so healthy.

 

“ _I suppose CyberLife believed the ends justifying the means considering a successful android revolution would ruin their business and income._ ” Connor raised his gaze to meet Hank's before continuing, “ _Guess that didn't work out so well_.”

 

He remembered his predecessor’s death, hit by a truck while chasing a deviant - Kara, he _remembered_ \- across a busy highway. That _RK800_ had completely disregarded Hank's warning in order to chase his mission. It's what he was designed to do after all.

 

The damages he had suffered from the impact with the truck weren't enough to ruin him beyond repair - _in theory_ \- but the mechanics at CyberLife tower decided to simply replace him. Most of his systems were too complex for an easy fix. Too time consuming would the procedure have been, so they just him down.

Connor would feel resentment at their callousness but that would mean hating the only reason he had been activated in the first place.

 

Some time ago, Connor had explained the procedure to Hank. His memory upload and replacement. How he was reassured that his survival was nonessential to the mission, that his mission had the highest priority.

He hadn't cared at the time - he was merely the replacement for a destroyed machine. But Hank had cared, always cared. Connor decided he'd be more careful to not upset the lieutenant. And soon enough, he didn't _feel_ like dying for _any_ reason anytime soon.

 

 _“Pretty fucked up.”_ Hank had told him.

 

Connor had smiled softly.

 

_“Pretty fucked up, Hank.”_

 

* * *

 

So, they ended up commissioning a specialized outfit for Connor. Hank didn't like the idea at first - sure it didn't have android in bold, blinking letters but it might just as well with the way it might him stand out in a crowd and among his fellow officers.

Connor didn't seem to care much, however. He _doubted_ he'd stick out anymore than Hank did with his fairly _personalized_ choice in button ups.

 

The upper half of his new uniform’s shirt was made from a temperature insulating fleece that had carbon fiber and graphene sewn into it; the fabric covered his arms and most of his hands, with a turtleneck that could be stretched across the lower half of his face, meant to protect the components responsible for his sample processes. While he himself didn't feel bothered by the cold of Detroit the same way a human might, his biocomponents certainly did.

The graphene would allow Connor to connect to electric devices without taking of his gloves, which only revealed the pointer and middle finger of his right hand to avoid staining the material with blood every time he took a blood sample.

 

 _“Graphene is highly conductive.”_ Connor explained. _“It's what allowed mine and many other uniforms to carry electronic emblems.”_  

 

 _“It's how they made my clothes glow.”_ He re-worded at Hank’s visible confusion.

 

The short sleeved, loose shirt he wore above the specialized cloth was merely meant to repel water, loose enough to allow for movement. Underneath it all, he wore a thin plating, enough to stop bullets from penetrating important biocomponents in his chest and neck.

 

“Makes you wonder why this isn't the type of shit you came with.” Hank grumbled as Connor explained to him how on most days Detroit didn’t necessarily have the ideal temperature for his more experimental biocomponents.

 

“CyberLife took liberties in order to make me appear less threatening to humans and deviants alike, while still maintaining a professional look.” _Business Casual_ was the appearance they were aiming for, he believed. He had all these weapon and combat protocols but he clearly couldn't take what he dished out.

 _“Glass cannon.”,_ Hank had called him.

 

His safety or wellbeing had never been the concern of Cyberlife's officials; a mere waste of time. Unlike most androids, he wasn't fitted with a proper self-preservation protocol.

But that changed now, because Hank had cared - and he had made Connor care, too. About those around him, and about himself.

 

Connor gave himself a once over, inspecting the new uniform for what must’ve been the fiftieth time that day. Just below his heart, on the front of his shirt it small, blue font it read

 

**_Detroit Police Department_ **

**_Det. Anderson_ **

 

 _“Are you sure about this?”,_ Connor had asked him softly, eyes fixed on the form Hank had already filled out for him.

 _“Listen,”_ Hank’s voice had already started to flow over with regret, _“I’m not forcin’ you into this - just an idea that’s all -”_

 _“No!”,_ finally lifting wide, brown eyes up to meet the human’s, _“I mean,”_ an unnecessary breath _, “I like it.”_

They had hugged for the second time that evening.

 _  
_ **_Connor Anderson_ **

 

He was still certain, even after everything that happened, they’d make a _great team_.

 _Justice_ would be his new mission.   

  
  
  



End file.
